Eric Bittle (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
puckandpie) wrote2015-12-22 12:08 pm
puckandpie) wrote2015-12-22 12:08 pm
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a christmas dinner [dated 12/23/2015]
I'm not sure whether or not this really counts as a romantic dinner. Considering the fact that my stomach is all tied up in knots for entirely the wrong reasons, I'd say it isn't, but it's still a dinner for two and I even made a centerpiece out of a little mini-wreath and a big red candle. Dinner itself is a simple fettuccine alfredo with garlic bread, a ceasar salad, and some homemade eggnog. And pie, of course. Sour cherry. I can only hope it goes over as well as the scones.
His presents -- a jar of sour cherry jam, an electric fan for his bedroom, a four-month skating pass to DIA, and a cookbook of easy recipes -- are all individually wrapped and sitting on the counter. The wrapping paper for the fan is a little scratched up thanks to Elvis deciding the ribbon was a toy, but I'm hoping he either won't notice or mind too much.
I'm just putting Elvis into his little playpen (I've discovered it is absolutely impossible to eat while he's out and shutting him away in my bedroom just breaks my heart so playpen it is) when the doorbell rings.
"Okay," I tell Elvis as he meows up at me. "You be a good boy, y'hear?"
Pulling in a breath and smoothing out the front of my button-up, I open the door, smiling immediately when I see Simon. And ignoring the sharp pang in my chest that knows this smile isn't going to last.
I'm not doing anything today though. Not right before Christmas.
"Hi!" I say instead, holding open the door for him. "You're right on time!"
His presents -- a jar of sour cherry jam, an electric fan for his bedroom, a four-month skating pass to DIA, and a cookbook of easy recipes -- are all individually wrapped and sitting on the counter. The wrapping paper for the fan is a little scratched up thanks to Elvis deciding the ribbon was a toy, but I'm hoping he either won't notice or mind too much.
I'm just putting Elvis into his little playpen (I've discovered it is absolutely impossible to eat while he's out and shutting him away in my bedroom just breaks my heart so playpen it is) when the doorbell rings.
"Okay," I tell Elvis as he meows up at me. "You be a good boy, y'hear?"
Pulling in a breath and smoothing out the front of my button-up, I open the door, smiling immediately when I see Simon. And ignoring the sharp pang in my chest that knows this smile isn't going to last.
I'm not doing anything today though. Not right before Christmas.
"Hi!" I say instead, holding open the door for him. "You're right on time!"
no subject
He reaches up to touch my hair and it's such a simple gesture, but it makes my chest clench all over again. This boy, this sweet, kind, cute boy is touching me so casually and I'm dumb enough to let him go.
"It's really not you," I tell him even though I know he's teasing and even though I know it's the most cliched line in the world. But it's true and he needs to know. Slowly, I lean in toward him, my gaze dropping to his lips briefly as I smile. "But I really wouldn't mind one less kiss. If that's okay?"